Shooting War
by Corvette Lead
Summary: The war is up close and personal for our friends
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer - I don't own the characters, and don't expect any profit. The key characters are owned by TPTB, the rest and the story are mine. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is a coincidence.  
  
0715 Hrs Local, 30 km South of Baghdad, Iraq  
  
Somewhat sheltered between the shattered, burning remains of an LAV- 25 infantry fighting vehicle and low stone wall that ran northwest to southeast along the roadside the somewhat dazed little group worked franticly to collect themselves and organize a hasty defense of their very vulnerable position. The task was made more difficult by the fact that ears were still ringing from the thunderous noise the mine made exploding under the wheeled vehicle flipping it up onto its side.  
  
To make the entire situation more challenging the evacuation had been made under a hail of small arms fire from the building immediately across the mined road. All in all it was a pretty good ambush site and the trap had been sprung with precision.  
  
Sgt. Tommy Wheeler peered around the end of the LAV trying to get a fix on where the fire was coming from, but it was hard to get a good look with the continued singing of high velocity rounds reminding him to stay very close to shelter.  
  
'Well shit,' he thought to himself, 'as long as the sumbitches have got to get across 40 meters of open ground to flank us on either side we're probably in pretty good shape. All we'll need to do is hang tight until the cavalry charges onto the scene.' The sergeant's second thought was about the welfare of the others in the LAV.  
  
"Ma'am, Commander, you okay?"  
  
LTC Sarah "Mac" MacKenzie vigorously nodded her head while she busied herself shoving a second magazine into the M16A2 in her hands. CMD Harmon Rabb also nodded while charging his 9 mm Beretta pistol and crawling to the other end of the ruined LAV.  
  
Two other Marines had taken up positions along the wall behind the LAV to be sure no one got behind the five stranded Americans.  
  
0720 Hrs Local, 30 km South of Baghdad, Iraq  
  
From the volume of automatic weapons fire it seemed to Mac that at least 10 men were across the road, and, in her professional opinion, Sgt. Wheeler was right on the money about their temporary security, but if someone came up with an RPG (rocket propelled grenade) launcher or something heavier that would change dramatically for the worse.  
  
The two officers sat with their back against the LAV drinking from their canteens. "Mac, I don't know about you, but I'm a little too old to sit out here in the damn sun waiting for the rag heads across the road to either slip off into that ditch behind the building and evaporate or decide they can take us from one flank or another."  
  
She took a long look at her partner before speaking. "That really doesn't sound like an ambushed, pinned down lawyer. Are you determined to get your nose into Corps business? Remember: You and I were just along for the ride here. If I remember correctly we're supposed to be heading for a meeting not cruising for medals. What do you have in mind?"  
  
Harm gestured for Sgt. Wheeler to join them and asked what the sergeant could see of the terrain across the road from his end of the LAV. Then he had another thought. "Wheeler, isn't there a SMAW (Shoulder- Launched Multipurpose Assault Weapon) in the LAV?"  
  
Understanding brightened the sergeant's eyes as he nodded. "As long as it didn't get eighty-sixed when the mine blew us the hell up one's in the vehicle, and I should be able to get back in the hatch without drawing a batch of fire. The way the hatch is laying I don't think the bad guys across the road will notice me if we go nice and easy."  
  
"Okay sergeant, nice and easy it is then. If they get frisky stay put until we lay some fire across the road to get their heads down again." As he was speaking Harm gestured toward the end of the LAV with his head. "Mac, give me your weapon, and I'll cover him."  
  
If looks could really kill Harm would have been KIA when the words cleared his lips. "Like hell Navy. You get your ass down to this end of the LAV and get ready for Wheeler to slide the SMAW under the hatch. That thing weighs 30 pounds and neither of you wants to try to run around or jump over the hatch if it gets busy here. I'll cover you from the forward end of the vehicle."  
  
Mac started sliding along the backside of the fighting vehicle and gesturing for one of the Marines along the wall to join her. When the two Marines were in position she signaled Wheeler to get moving. As soon as the young sergeant was in the vehicle Harm holstered his weapon and dropped down to collect the rocket launcher.  
  
When the fiberglass tube appeared under the edge of the blackened hatch Harm took it from Wheeler's hands and sat the device behind the LAV. Seconds later the young sergeant slipped around the hatch and slid to the ground next to Harm. "Thanks, Commander. I don't think it would have been very stealthy to have to climb around the hatch in broad daylight in plain view of our friends over there, and the SMAW wouldn't have been very happy about being punched through a hole in the sand to get it to this side."  
  
"No sweat," Harm allowed, "now let's see how the colonel wants to proceed." Mac turned when Harm bounced a small rock off of her leg and he waved her toward him.  
  
He grinned and pointed at the missile launcher. "Instant fire superiority. That's better tactics through technology if I ever saw it. Now, how do you want to make our friends a little less comfortable?"  
  
"What do you have in mind Harm? 'Cause I'm still thinking the best bet is to sit tight right now. Someone must be looking for us, and this is the only road we would be been on." All she got for an answer was a tight grin as another burst pinged off the top of the LAV. "Mac, you know we're sitting ducks here if we don't do something to upset our friends over there. Doesn't this remind you a little of a field trip in West Virginia?"  
  
She almost laughed aloud. "Yeah, and that time didn't we almost buy the farm too? Harm, this is way too much like one of my Balkan nightmares. I've been here, done this, bought the t-shirt, and don't want to go again. Let's just sit tight. The bastards can't flank us, and they obviously don't have anything heavy enough to punch through the LAV. About all they can try is rushing us from the front, and we've got enough firepower to handle that."  
  
0830 Hrs Local, 30 km South of Baghdad, Iraq  
  
A Mexican standoff had developed. The Marines were effectively pinned between the wrecked LAV and a low stonewall behind them with the desert beyond. On the other side of the road their attackers couldn't move very far from the building they were hiding in without coming under fire.  
  
1003 Hrs Local, 30 km South of Baghdad, Iraq  
  
LCpl Stephen D. Newman, without a thought, gave his last full measure of devotion to the Corps and his fellow Marines yelling "DOWN" and driving his 240 pounds into Mac a couple of heartbeats before the RPG-7 launched from cover across the road ripped into the wreck of the LAV. Roughly five pounds of high explosive material shredded the aft end of the wreck in an boiling ball of fire and shrapnel.  
  
The 21year old Lance corporal was killed instantly by the blast and countless shrapnel wounds, but the Marine he dove into was unharmed; breathless, partially deafened, and dazed, but uninjured. Automatically Sarah MacKenzie shouted for a medic as she rolled Newman's body to one side, but the Iowa Marine was beyond a medic's help even if one were around.  
  
Sgt. Wheeler emptied a magazine from his M16 into the building forcing the Iraqi's heads back down before ducking back down behind the LAV. Mac looked up at Harm from Newman's shattered corpse. Her expression was as hard as the desert behind them. "I don't know about you Butch, but I'm about to go get some. Are you along for the ride?"  
  
"What ever you say Sundance."  
  
She motioned Wheeler closer. "Are you okay with the SMAW, or is McKay the shooter?"  
  
"McKay's trained on it, and he's a helluva shot, ma'am."  
  
"Okay sergeant. You know how we're going to do this?"  
  
"Yes ma'am. McKay takes the building on with the SMAW, probably from the other end of the LAV, and while the rag heads are still whacked out from the blast we take 'em from the road."  
  
"You're all over it Wheeler. Get McKay squared away. The Commander and I will keep their heads down with covering fire. McKay needs to kick the shit out of the front of the building just to the left of the door. Use the grenades you've got to keep them shook up while we cross the road. Once we're in the building take care of business. Clear?"  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
While giving orders Mac was wiping Newman's blood off his M16A1 and pulling extra magazines out of the dead Marine's web gear stacking them on the ground in front of Harm. When she turned to look at Harm again her expression was even more devoid of expression if that were possible. She handed the weapon and extra magazines to him.  
  
"Harm, when the SMAW hits we're up and running while the bad guys are still reeling from the noise and concussion. That should keep them down and confused while we cross the road from this end. Wheeler and McKay will clear from the other side, and we will be on them before they can get their bearings. Do you understand what's going to happen once we cross the road?"  
  
Without a second thought he nodded. When the preparations were complete Mac pointed at McKay and the SMAW spoke with a hollow thud followed immediately with a thundering explosion. Building fragments, dust, and body parts filled the air. The concussion was still ringing in Harm's ears when Mac jumped up. With an exaggerated wave of his weapon Harm's only comment: "Think that was enough dynamite?"  
  
1130 Hrs Local, 30 km South of Baghdad, Iraq  
  
A Marine patrol found the four Americans slumped exhausted but uninjured against the burned out house. Fourteen Iraqi soldiers were dead in the remains of the building and three more were found strung out more or less in a line between the back of the building and a waddi behind. The four Americans were out of ammunition, and the three behind the building were all dead from knife wounds.  
  
It was horrible.  
  
1425 Hrs Local, 10 days later, Waterloo Cemetery, Waterloo, Iowa  
  
The Marine honor guard was waiting for the funeral procession to make its way from the funeral chapel to the cemetery when the dark blue Ford sedan with government plates rolled to a stop behind them. The group, busy with final preparations, didn't really notice the two officers walking toward them for a moment. Busy pulling his dress blues blouse down the sergeant commanding the guard unit finally realized the two officers were heading his way.  
  
"Attention!"  
  
Salutes were exchanged before the tall navy commander put the detail at ease quickly with an "as you were." The commander offered a slight smile and a nod at the slightly confused sergeant who then looked at the lieutenant colonel with the dark hair, hard eyes, and stern face. "Sergeant, a word if you please."  
  
"Yes ma'am" was the automatic response.  
  
"I am sorry to step in here, but I will handle the presentation. You take the head of the casket. Also, before the flag is folded there will be orders. That will be all."  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
The two officers stepped aside and stood shoulder to shoulder at one side of the grave with out speaking waiting on the funeral procession to arrive.  
  
1442 Hrs Local, Waterloo Cemetery, Waterloo, Iowa  
  
When the minister finished the "ashes to ashes" portion of the service he nodded to the honor guard, and Mac stepped up to the backside of the casket and faced the small group sitting under the flapping tent.  
  
In a strong parade deck voice she called the military contingent to attention for orders. When all those in uniform were at attention she repeated, without notes, the citation for a posthumous Silver Star awarded to LCpl Stephen D. Newman. She then placed the medal, ribbon, citation, and a purple heart on a small stand at the foot of the casket.  
  
A nod to the sergeant commanding the casket detail started the flag folding ceremony. When the flag was folded he passed it to Mac who pivoted away and marched to stand before Newman's mother. The slight red headed woman sat stiff with dry, red eyes looking straight ahead.  
  
With her gaze shifting between mother, father, one brother and a sister Mac leaned forward and spoke in a low voice as she placed the tightly folded banner into the family's hands:  
  
"On behalf of President Bush, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, and Marines everywhere I want to express my condolences and give you the thanks of a grateful nation."  
  
With that she stood, snapped to attention and saluted. When she stepped back taps were played then all that was left was the creaking of the tent as it swayed in the summer breeze. Then it was over.  
  
There were the usual formalities and exchange of sympathetic words as the family group shuffled past the casket and moved toward their cars to go home.  
  
As the family started walking toward the limousine for the ride back to funeral home LCpl Newman's father walked away from the group and over to the Marines.  
  
"Ma'am, former Sgt. Newman, 1st Marines. Thank you for your courtesy. Steve died doing something he thought was important, and I am honored that you and the commander thought it was important enough to come here today." He sniffed a little and turned away walking toward the car with his shoulders hunched forward.  
  
Just before the little remaining group separated the youthful sergeant looked at Mac and asked a million dollar question: "Why are you here ma'am? Did you know LCpl. Newman?"  
  
She favored the young man with a look that would have turned a mere mortal to stone and held it for a long three count before answering. "Sergeant, although it's none of your business, I had the honor of serving with LCpl. Newman. You are dismissed."  
  
"Yes ma'am. Thank you ma'am."  
  
Harm and Mac walked slowly back to the staff car, and along the way Harm took a breath that sounded like he was about to speak. "Harm, if you dare ask me if I'm okay I'll kill you with my bare hands right here. Just get in the damn car and drive."  
  
1530 Hrs Local, Holiday Inn Express, Waterloo, IA  
  
Mac slowly got up from her chair across the table from Harm and started to walk through the door into the connecting room. "I'm going to take a shower. Maybe we can get dinner in a bit." He nodded and she walked on into her bathroom slowly dropping clothing along the way.  
  
She picked up a long bathrobe and hung it on the hook inside the bathroom door before turning the shower up as hot as she could stand it. She stepped into the shower. Sure that Harm couldn't hear anything but the running water she couldn't hold it any longer.  
  
The sudden burst of tears and uncontrollable sobbing was a private affair as she slumped to the tile shower floor. 


	2. An Uneasy Peace

Author's Note: A couple of comments have been made about Mac falling off the wagon, so before you go off on the subject why not wait for the next chapter?  
  
1645 Hrs Local, Holiday Inn Express, Waterloo, IA  
  
It took a Herculean effort, but Mac pulled herself off the shower floor while shoving the images back into a mental box. It didn't make any difference. No matter how hard she scrubbed or how much soap she used she could still see the blood on her hands, feel the stuttering vibration of an M16A1, and smell the hot, acrid ammonia scene of high explosives in her hair and on her clothes.  
  
When she looked at her feet all she saw were scarred desert tan combat boots spattered with more blood and the thin grey gruel that had to be brain tissue.  
  
Climbing out of the shower the steam fogged mirror revealed a haggard, dirt-covered face.  
  
Complete concentration was demanded to complete the basic task of drying off with the plush white towel. Rationally Mac knew her self-vision was an illusion. She was in a Holiday Inn Express in asshole Iowa somewhere. Iraq was thousands of miles away, but it was still very real in her mind's eye.  
  
Violence and death were not strangers to Sarah MacKenzie. She had seen both in her personal life as well as in the service of her country. It was the strange, convoluted logic of her experience in the Iraqi desert that would not let her mind rest.  
  
'We were ambushed fair and square in the middle of nowhere riding down the damn road in an LAV with our heads collectively up our ass. A mine went off and all hell broke loose. We took a bunch of fire before turning things into a standoff. The Iraqis had a covered way to just slip off. We were a mission kill stuck in the middle of the desert. They should have logged us as a success and slid off to fight another day. Why didn't they? Why were they determined to finish us off?  
  
'Well, if that was their objective they really messed up didn't they,' Mac mused. 'What if they really wanted to be martyrs? If that was the case they damn sure succeeded.' Her mind was not quieted at all by the fact that none of their attackers were available for after action interviews concerning their intentions.  
  
'Okay MacKenzie now let's get moving,' she ordered herself. 'If we don't get started right now Harm's going to be in here with all kinds of questions that I don't want to answer right now.' With a final exhortation to focus Mac pulled herself together and completed her preparations for dinner.  
  
1900 Hrs Local, Lone Star Steakhouse, Waterloo, IA  
  
Despite a surprisingly good dinner it had been a somewhat strained affair, and Harm was more than a little concerned about his partner's mental state. The fallout from the ambush was tangible, and he didn't have even the first idea about how to prod her out of the deep funk.  
  
"Okay Mac, I give up. The 'I'm okay, you're okay act' is starting to wear a little thin. What can I do to help?"  
  
An automatic protest was waved away. "No Mac, we're either going to have a knock down, drag out fight about this or you're going to tell me what's going on behind that plastic mask you've pasted on your beautiful face."  
  
Complete, total, profound silence descended in the corner booth, and it must have lasted for three or four minutes.  
  
Silently Mac chewed her lower lip as she stared at her hands. Finally she looked up. "Okay, pay the tab and let's walk into the bar. I'm not telling this story without a drink." Wisdom, compassion, and a substantial amount of surprise kept the famous Rabb mouth shut, and that was a really good thing.  
  
1920 Hrs, Lone Star Steakhouse & Saloon, Waterloo, IA  
  
They slid onto a pair of stools at the end of the bar. When the whiskey tender asked about drinks Mac was first to speak. "He needs a Fosters and let me have a Cutty Sark neat with a water back." She slid an American Express Platinum Card across the bar. "Keep the tab open. We're going to be here for awhile."  
  
Harm's quizzical look prompted an answer to the unasked question. "I really hate scotch, so the Cutty helps keep the things more or less under control."  
  
Drinks appeared and Mac picked up the tumbler touching rims with Harm's glass.  
  
Mac: "Missing friends."  
  
Harm: "Semper Fi."  
  
She turned to face the back bar mirror and watched herself knock the whiskey back before motioning for another before turning back to her right.  
  
"So you want to know what's going on in my head?" There was a moment of trepidation before Harm nodded. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing is going on in my head, and that freaks me totally out. My last clear memory is wondering what the hell Newman was doing when he dove at me. The next thing I clearly remember was the relief column medic shaking me asking if I was okay.  
  
"I remember looking back at the burned out building when I climbed into the back of the HUMVEE. I remember watching Stephen Newman being zipped into a body bag. I remember the ride on to Baghdad, and I remember telling the intelligence-debriefing officer some vague story. But at the end of the day, I don't have the slightest idea what went on out there.  
  
"I do know one thing: I don't want to know."  
  
The second Cutty was dispatched neatly down the hatch with a signal for another.  
  
"God, this tastes like diesel fuel." Her hands absently swirled the recently replaced whiskey in the glass while watching the liquid slosh around.  
  
Harm took in a big breath then slowly exhaled before speaking. "That's not all of it Mac. We've been through way too much for me not to be able to tell when you're keeping something close to the vest. Please let me in here. I'm not sure how much more pain you can hide."  
  
She put her left hand on the bar and spun herself slowly through one revolution coming to rest again facing Harm.  
  
"I'm not sure I can tell you more. Sometimes when I look at my hands they have shooting gloves on them and the gloves are splattered with blood. No matter how hard I try I can't get the gloves or the blood stains off. Just a little while ago in the shower when I reached down for the shampoo I didn't see bare, wet feet. I had on a pair of desert boots that were all scared up and they were covered with stuff. In the mirror the person who looked back at me was covered with dirt with sweat streaks in the crud.  
  
"God Harm, sometimes at night I can hear fighting. Last night the nightmare was all shooting, yelling, and I finally woke up when I dropped a magazine and couldn't find another.  
  
"What I don't understand is why now? What's different? I didn't have nightmares when I came back from Bosnia. I've had a few sleepless nights over some of the things you and I have been involved with, but nothing like this. I really think I am loosing my grip."  
  
Harm took Mac's smaller hands into his and held them tightly for a moment before proceeding. "You're not cracking up Mac. That whole deal was a bad scene. I can't imagine how it could have been much worse. I'd like to make a lot of it go away in my mind, but I can't make it disappear."  
  
Her laughter was forced and brittle. "I hope no one's listening. We'd both be up for a psych evaluation about now. I can't remember. You want to forget. Shit. That must have been some party."  
  
2055 Hrs, Lone Star Steakhouse & Saloon, Waterloo, IA  
  
Lost in their respective memories the two sat in silence for a long time close together soaking up the support each offered the other.  
  
"Harm, dance with me. I don't want to sit here anymore right now."  
  
He squeezed her hand as them took the few steps to the dance floor. They melted into each other's embrace.  
  
0815 Local, JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA  
  
RADM A. J. Chegwidden was puzzled by the courier package on his desk.  
  
"Coates, what's this package from CENTCOM (Central Command)?"  
  
"Sir, I don't know. It came via officer courier this morning about 0730. I didn't think the major that delivered it was going to let me sign for it since it was marked for your hands only."  
  
"Thank you Jennifer. Please close the hatch on your way out."  
  
He inspected the security tape and seal on the package and all was in order. Jennifer Coates' signature was on the cover sheet that had been time stamped at 0719 when it came through the main gate. The package had a bundle of after action reports covered by a standard DF (distribution form) transmitting the documents container herein to RADM A. J. Chegwidden for disposition.  
  
'What the hell is this? I've got better things to do than read some screwball after action report.'  
  
The subject line on page one of the transmittal document, however, riveted the admiral to his seat.  
  
"Subject: Referral of Potential War Crimes Activities for Possible Article 32 Disposition"  
  
If there was a hot button issue in the American military is was an allegation of war crimes. In today's environment that was potentially even more inflammatory than sexual discrimination.  
  
"Due to the assignment of the officers involved the Central Command commander herein refers the attached after action reports and interviews to the Judge Advocate General of the U. S. Navy for consideration and disposition."  
  
'Chair warming son of a bitch,' the admiral thought. 'Somebody not permanently assigned to his command has come under suspicion and he doesn't want his name associated with the deal. Well, nothing's pressing this morning, so I just as well read this pile of crap before passing it along for review. In fact, Rabb and MacKenzie are coming back from Iowa today, so I'll get one of them to do the due diligence.' He spread the documents out on the deck.  
  
The first interview transcript was captioned intelligence debriefing of Sgt. Thomas J. Wheeler, USMC. The second transcript was captioned intelligence debriefing of Cpl. Wilson R. McKay, USMC and the third Marine was one Pvt. Jasmine W. Waller. When he shoved the Waller interview aside the name on interviews four and five riveted him to the chair.  
  
Interview of CMD Harmon Rabb and interview of LTC Sarah MacKenzie just as well have been in bright red 72-point type.  
  
TBC? 


	3. Hidden Agendas

2110 Hrs Local, Lone Star Steakhouse & Saloon, Waterloo, IA  
  
The music ended and the pair walked back to the bar. Once seated Harm picked up the empty shot glass, turned it upside down on the bar, and tapped it with the index finger of his right hand.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because."  
  
"That's not an answer."  
  
"Yes, Harm it is if you're an alcoholic. There are two truths here, and you need to recognize them before you turn sanctimonious. First, I'm a mess right now, and secondly I don't know how to get my head straight. I know a drink doesn't help in the cosmic scheme of things, so don't give me that rant. I just really needed to feel something, even if it came from the burn of cheap scotch right now, tonight.  
  
"Harm, I'm not going to sit here all night long and pound down bad blended scotch. Hell, I don't even like the stuff. If I didn't know you were here as a safety net I wouldn't be sitting on this bar stool. I'm not even sure I would have made it to Steve Newman's funeral.  
  
"By the way, thank you for not being hard headed about the scotch tonight of all nights. If this had turned into a knock 'em down and drag 'em out fight I'm not sure how it would have come out. I am also positive it would have been a disaster for both of us. And as long as I am passing out thanks, I can't tell you how much just having you here helped. I'm not sure I would have made it through the last couple of days without my best friend."  
  
Harm picked up Mac's chin and looked at her eyes. They seemed a little less troubled, and that was good enough for now.  
  
The silence that fell over the two was a comfortable, familiar blanket that had been missing for a long time. Two cups of coffee were added to the scene, and the conversation picked up again.  
  
0900 Hrs Local, JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA  
  
After reading the entire after action report package for a second time the Admiral was furious. He had not used the pejorative terms REMF (rear echelon mother fucker) about a fellow officer in years, but that was the only description that came to mind as he read the CENTCOM transmittal slip one more time before calling Jennifer Coats into his office.  
  
"Coats, I want to talk with the Commandant as soon as he has a spare moment, then I want to talk with Gen. Sanchez in Baghdad. Make both of those calls on the STU (secure telephone). While I am yapping with the big brass find out where these three Marines are and make arrangements to have them in this office ASAP. Finally find the commander and the colonel. I want them here ASAP also. Secure the hatch when you leave. That's all."  
  
With a very quick "aye sir" PO Coats made her way out closing the door along the way. The call on Marine Corps Commandant's private line at 8th and I Street was quickly connected.  
  
"Commandant's Office, Gunnery Sergeant Gill speaking. This line is secure. How may I help you?"  
  
Coats concisely stated her business, and the gunny said the Commandant would be on the line in 60 seconds. After waiting exactly 30 seconds she buzzed the Admiral and told him the Commandant would be on the line in a few seconds.  
  
"AJ! How the hell are you? More to the point, when are you coming across the river to visit your poor cousins over lunch?"  
  
"General, I'm well and if I can ever get away from the sea lawyers on this ride of the Potomac I will be pleased to take you up on lunch. Now, I've got an 'out of school' question for you if there's a couple of minutes in your schedule."  
  
The Commandant and A. J. Chegwidden had been friends for years, and time was always available. "My time is your time, at least until the chief of staff busts through the door and takes the phone out of my hand."  
  
"Do you know if anyone of your staff has talked with some REMF at CENTCOM about a bullshit potential war crimes referral stemming from an Iraqi ambush down south of Baghdad a few days back? Four marines and a pair of officers were blown up in an LAV with one KIA."  
  
The Commandant didn't even have to think about this one. In fact he had been on the phone offering condolences to the Newman's less than 30 minutes ago. "This is the Newman deal. Weren't the two officers yours?"  
  
"Yes, general that's the one."  
  
"AJ some asshole from CENTCOM talked to my chief of staff a couple of days ago about this. After my chief checked with his guys in country he told the colonel who called to pound sand in his ass. In fact, I believe Gen. Sanchez is sitting on some medal recommendations for all those involved. I do know that the Newman kid got a posthumous Silver Star.  
  
"Don't tell me that somehow JAG is involved in this deal. I didn't read the after actions, but it sounded to command in Baghdad and to my guy like everybody should be in line for some kind words from on high."  
  
That was all he needed to know, and the Admiral offered his thanks to the Commandant along with a reminder that traffic across the 14th Street Bridge ran both ways.  
  
1015 Local, JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA  
  
"Admiral," PO Coates voice on the speaker broke the silence, "Gen. Sanchez is on the line for you."  
  
The secure satellite connection was very clear, and the voice from Iraq was a little unsure about why he was speaking to the Navy's Judge Advocate General himself. "Admiral, how can I help you this evening?"  
  
"General, I am sorry to be calling at this hour, but a package of after action reports hit my desk this morning Washington time that I really need some help with. Are you familiar with an ambush gone bad south of Baghdad the other day where we took one KIA?"  
  
It didn't take long for that event to pop back into the general's mind. "That's the Newman deal right?"  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"Admiral, I can't recall the details, but LCpl Newman got a Silver Star, and I think the staff judge advocate here is working the paper on some other awards. Do you want to talk to the paper pushers here at Fifth Corps?"  
  
Just to be on the safe side there was one more question for the commander of U. S. forces in Iraq. "General, are you aware of any war crimes allegations or other illegal activity in connection with this incident to the best of your knowledge?"  
  
That kind of on the record question would put a chill into even the warmest conversation.  
  
"Admiral, although I will raise that question with the appropriate people at this end and have then contact you with their reports, to the best of my knowledge everyone involved, everyone reacted in a way that would have brought honor on themselves and their organizations. Unless someone at this end is working another agenda, if you have been apprised of any potential improper behavior you have been badly misinformed. Is there anything else sir?"  
  
"General that will be all, and I thank you for your time."  
  
1130 Local, JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA  
  
A knock wrested Bud Roberts' attention away from West Law to the doorway where he was his commanding officer leaning on the doorframe. "Lunch plans Bud?"  
  
Although he had planned to grab a quick lunch and get back to his research the answer was instant: "No sir."  
  
"Excellent lieutenant. Tell Coats what you want from her menu selection then join me in my office. I have an assignment for you."  
  
TBC? 


	4. Hard to Remember

1215 Local, JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA  
  
With the sandwich and drink orders out of the way the Admiral turned to the business at hand giving Bud one of his 'stern' looks before proceeding. "Lieutenant, although I am sure I don't need to remind you of the need for confidentiality in any JAG proceeding, I'm going to make an exception here. The situation I am passing along to you is STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL. You are not to discuss any of the details with anyone without specific clearance from me. Progress reports, notes, documents, and all other working papers are to be kept secure at all times. Are there any questions?"  
  
The question wasn't rhetorical.  
  
Verbally Bud responded in the anticipated manner: "No sir." Mentally the reaction was a little different: 'Questions? None at this point, but something about this just screams about future questions.'  
  
Without any additional preamble the Admiral moved into the details of his assignment. "Bud, 11 days ago several Marines and a Naval officer were ambushed south of Baghdad, and they took one KIA. A routine road patrol found the survivors, a burned out LAV-25, and a batch of dead Iraqi soldiers all stacked up at the roadside in a burned out hooch (No, A. J. Chegwidden didn't even think about his inadvertent slip into old Vietnamese terminology).  
  
"Everyone was evacuated to Baghdad and after action reports were taken by some Army intelligence types. After review in the field and at Fifth Corps the KIA was awarded a posthumous Silver Star, and I understand the staff judge advocate in country is finishing up some paperwork to pass out a variety of other 'gongs' to the participants.  
  
"All of the after action reports have been forwarded to this office for review. Your job, lieutenant, is to complete that review, and I want that done ASAP. I have taken the liberty of having PO Coates start rounding up all of the participants for interviews, although the people who are still in country may not be immediately available.  
  
"She is also cutting orders that will authorize you to travel to Iraq or any other locations in connection with this investigation on a very high priority. She will also have letter orders for your use if they are required to obtain any level of cooperation that may be required in the completion of your assignment.  
  
"Bud, this should be a very routine operation, but I want to be sure you look under every rock then look under the rock under the rock to be sure we have all of the details. Keep me appraised of developments verbally."  
  
Coates' discrete knock was quickly followed by lunch, which was quickly dispatched, and a heavily loaded LT Roberts made his way back to his office.  
  
'Okay,' Bud thought to himself as he settled back into his chair, 'I've got to finish the research for this filing before I can even think about this new project.' Much of the afternoon was devoted to drafting a brief. A trip to the printer and stop for a cup of coffee brought him back to the office, and he shoved the door closed before sitting down to read the after action reports.  
  
Without really thinking about why Bud just picked up the top interview transcript and started reading Pvt. J. W. Waller's account of the incident. He did notice that each time either the interviewer or the subject used someone's name that information had been redacted, but that was standard procedure when after action reports were referred for review.  
  
It took the better part of an hour to read through the versions recalled by Pvt. Waller and Cpl. McKay. There were some minor differences in the stories, but as a matter of perspective that was to be expected in witness statements. The next report in the stack was the interview of another Marine non commissioned officer, so Bud decided to refresh his coffee before plunging back into the reading. When he walked out into the bullpen he was surprised to find that it was almost 1630 and most of the first shift staff were in the process of securing their areas before heading out the door.  
  
'Crap! I've got to head for the house on time this evening, so I will get to the last three after actions in the morning.'  
  
With a fresh cup of coffee he headed back into the office and quickly dictated his progress notes and secured the paperwork in his safe. A quick look around assured that everything was ship shape, so he flipped the lights off and walked toward the door. The trip was when PO Coates handed Bud orders that were folded into his other paperwork.  
  
"Thanks Jen! Good night."  
  
"Good night lieutenant."  
  
2025 Hrs Local, The Roberts' Residence, Suburban Virginia  
  
AJ was off to bed and Harriett was busy with something in the den when Bud finally took a minute to read his orders and almost dropped his coffee cup. The boilerplate in the orders was very familiar, although the high travel was a surprise, however, the letter orders were stunning.  
  
'The officer bearing these orders is traveling under the authority of the Secretary of the Navy, and all elements of the Naval Service, including the United States Marine Corps, are directed to provide whatever assistance this officer may request. If any request is to be declined Navy Judge Advocate General must personally approve that refusal in writing PRIOR to any action. All other elements of the Department of Defense are strongly urged to provide any support requested.  
  
'If any security issues are raised this officer is presumed to HAVE A NEED TO KNOW.'  
  
'What in the hell,' Bud wondered, 'have I gotten myself into?'  
  
0725 Hrs Local, State Rt. 7, Falls Church, VA  
  
Without any actual thought Mac guided the red Corvette through the morning traffic heading into work for her first day back since returning from Iraq. Some extra preparation time and artful makeup application hid most of the signs of sleep deprivation, but the driver's side visor mirror clearly reflected her flat, dead eyes. The slight tremor in her left hand really wasn't visible as long as she remembered to hold her coffee cup in the right.  
  
'Well, hell, I guess it's time to make an appearance,' she thought pulling the car's parking brake up sharply with her right hand. After retrieving her cover from the passenger seat and settling it correctly on her head LTC Sarah MacKenzie couldn't help the thought: 'This is as good as I'm going to get. I hope it's good enough.'  
  
0805 Local, JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA  
  
Harm grabbed a cup of coffee as he walked past the break room and made a sharp turn into his office parking his cover on the bookcase and briefcase on the credenza. A cursory look at the mountain of paper in the IN basket didn't reveal anything critical. Before he had a chance to boot his computer up PO Coates appeared in his door.  
  
"Good morning Sir! I hate to interrupt, but the Admiral wants to see you at 0900, so don't get to occupied with that stack of paperwork."  
  
"Thanks, Jennifer. Have you seen Col. MacKenzie this morning?"  
  
"Yes sir, she's in with him right now, and you're the on deck hitter. Oh, welcome back! Did everything go okay in Iowa?"  
  
That really depends on whom you ask, Harm thought. "It probably went as well as you could expect, but I really don't want to do that again anytime soon." He got a sad smile in return before Jennifer vanished out of the door.  
  
0855 Hrs Local, JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA  
  
"Okay, Mac that about wraps it up for now. I am sure Lt. Roberts will want to interview you today because he's heading East this evening and will not be back for a few days."  
  
Her response was an automatic, "Yes sir."  
  
"That will be all Mac, and please send Rabb in when you leave. Dismissed."  
  
An "aye sir" and an about face were all that were needed to end the meeting and get Mac headed out the admiral's door. A left turn and a few steps later she was at Harm's open office door. "Harm, you're up."  
  
Looking up from the stack of paperwork on the desk he took a long look at his partner's drawn face. 'She looks like crap,' he thought without saying anything. Fatigue lined her face and the slight left hand tremor was obvious. "Okay, I'm headed that way now colonel. How did your powwow with the big chief go?"  
  
Without thinking she looked slightly away. "Oh, the usual welcome back pep talk along with a detailed list of loose ends that need to be tied up. You know, the standard chief of staff stuff."  
  
Obviously there was something more, but Harm wisely didn't press the issue and headed for the admiral's office. PO Coates was waiting for him. "Go right in commander. He's expecting you."  
  
When Harm closed the door behind himself the admiral was standing behind his desk looking out the windows, and that was never a good sign. Over the years Harm could not think of an instance where finding his boss looking out the window gathering his thoughts was the initial sign of a good meeting.  
  
"Have a seat by the fireplace commander," was the over the shoulder greeting. 'Okay,' Harm thought, 'if this is an ass chewing it will at least be informal, but I can't think of anything that should be under the old man's sea blanket right now.'  
  
Slowly A. J. Chegwidden walked over to the facing chairs by the fireplace.  
  
"Harm, I've got a pretty good idea about how things were in Iraq, how were things in Iowa?"  
  
That opening was unexpected. "Sir, we buried a Marine who died too young. I've been on better trips."  
  
"Harm they all 'die too young.' That's a hard reality to face, but that's not what I am asking about. How are you and Mac holding up? I've got the feeling that neither of you really were required at the services, so that makes it some kind of a pilgrimage. That's a bad move son."  
  
It took a moment to process the nuances of the admiral's statement, and Harm really wasn't sure where the conversation was heading. So he temporized filling the vacuum with words that really weren't on point. "Sir, Steve Newman was killed protecting Mac. You can't be suggesting that honoring his memory by turning up at the funeral was a bad idea."  
  
Before he could continue the admiral held up a hand to cut off the conversation. "No. That's not what I was saying. The young man's actions merited a Silver Star, and it was important for the family to know that his death wasn't meaningless.  
  
"It's a bad idea for you and Mac to spend a lot of time looking into the abyss. The philosopher who observed that looking into the abyss would eventually lead to it looking back was 100% on the money. Don't dwell on it.  
  
"Before this conversation gets any more philosophical I need to officially inform you that the after action reports have been reviewed in the field, at Fifth Corps, and at CENTCOM. Now they're here for a final review. LT Roberts is the reviewing officer, and he will want to discuss your report later today. He's heading east this evening, so please make whatever time he needs available.  
  
"That will be all commander."  
  
If three levels of command have looked at this incident and it's been referred to JAG for final determination there's something screwy here, Harm immediately thought. "Sir, if I may, why all of the official scrutiny? We had a KIA, but that's not enough for this kind of examination. What's up?"  
  
A.J. Chegwidden wasn't the kind of man who could simply dismiss a question, nor could he be less than truthful with a trusted subordinate. "Harm, I can't get into that with you until after Roberts completes your interview and gets back from Iraq, and you are going to have to leave it at that for now.  
  
"A final thought commander: Keep an eye on Mac. She looks like crap, so I'm guessing she's not sleeping, and I really don't like the 1000-yard stare or the shaking left hand. Talk her into getting help, or I'm going to order her to Bethesda to have her head candled. Now, for the last time you are dismissed. Go back to work."  
  
1005 Hrs Local, JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA  
  
Mac was clearly exasperated, "Bud, I really don't have any additional details to add here. Like I said I don't have any clear recollections between the time the RPG smacked the LAV and about the time the road patrol found us. There are random bits and pieces that are more like impressions than clear memories, but I can't tell you what happened. You're going to have to get that from the other after action interviews."  
  
Concerned about his friend and mentor Bud tried to brush off the memory lapse with a dismissive hand wave and a reference to traumatic amnesia. "That's fine ma'am. Don't worry about things. If there are any more questions after I speak with the others we can talk again.  
  
"Now, can I speak freely ma'am?" Mac just nodded certain she knew what was coming. "You really don't look that good Mac. How are you doing with all of this?"  
  
She took a brief look at Bud's concerned expression before turning away to look out the window. "I'm not doing all that well, but I'll get through it. I have before. Are we wrapped up here? I know you've got to talk with Harm before heading for Andrews." The automatic pleasantries finished the meeting and Mac was gone leaving Bud more than a little worried about his friend.  
  
1325 Hrs Local, JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA  
  
"Okay Commander please walk me through the time after the RPG hit the LAV until the action was over one more time."  
  
Harm took a deep breath and let it out slowly trying to ease the tension that had built up over the last 20 minutes. "When the RPG hit the LAV it was obvious we couldn't just 'sit tight' and wait for some road patrol to relieve us. The bad guys had obviously pumped up their firepower, and if they kept the initiative it was just a matter of time before their superior numbers would have left us in a world of hurt.  
  
"Mac told McKay to hit the hut across the road with the SMAW and while the Iraqis were trying to get their heads clear we crossed the road and cleared the building. Some of fighting was hand-to-hand, but they were pretty well chewed up from the SMAW. Once we had everybody down we secured the building and waited for a road movement to come along. It was about 10 minutes later when the Marines rode up in a couple of HUMVEES."  
  
Harm's recollection of the story was very much in line with the interview transcripts. Sgt. Wheeler and the two enlisted Marines had crossed the road to Harm and Mac's left under the cover of the SMAW blast. The three Marines had quickly cleared that end of the building before backing up the two officers.  
  
"Sir, at any time was Col. MacKenzie out of your sight?"  
  
Immediately Harm started to say 'no,' but after a moment. "The only time she was out of sight was when we split up to cut off a couple of guys who were trying to make a run for the waddi behind the hut. I had them penned in the upper end of the ditch and Mac flanked 'em. There was a little gunfire, the sound of a fight, then Mac was yelling it was all clear; that everyone was down. I jumped into the waddi and she was slumped against one side and an Iraqi lieutenant was dead next to her. Once I determined she was uninjured we got the hell out of the waddi and returned to the hut."  
  
When Bud finished making notes he looked up at Harm. "Sir, when you jumped into the waddi what was the first thing you saw?" Harm thought for a moment before recalling: "Mac was flat on the ground on her left side facing the Iraqi officer. Both of them were down, but Mac turned to look at me when my feet hit the ground."  
  
"Okay," Bud was wrapping up, "did the Iraqi still have a weapon? Where were his hands?" That answer didn't take any thought. "Bud, they were wrapped around the grip of the bayonet that was stuck into his chest. You don't forget that sight easily." 


	5. Desert Fever

1005 Hrs. Local, Camp Sather, Baghdad International Airport, Iraq  
  
After his escort from the 2nd Battalion, 2nd Marines dropped him off at what could loosely be called the VOQ (visiting officer's quarters) Bud located the battalion's secure computer network and booted his laptop up to check his mail and let Harriett know he had arrived safely. The first message that was downloaded was a note sent on Adm. Chegwidden's behalf asking for an update ASAP along with an estimated time for completion.  
  
'Wow, I just hit the ground. It's about four in the morning Washington time, and the admiral's hot for an update. I guess I'd better let the duty officer know I'm alive and start getting my interviews scheduled.' With than he shuffled off to the Marine headquarters detachment to present his orders and get the ball rolling.  
  
A very tall black major from Illinois handled the official "greeting" when Bud checked in. "Good morning lieutenant. I trust the ride in was restful as well as comfortable." When Bud just grinned and shrugged Maj. Jacob L. Moore continued with a chuckle, "I'd really like to get my hands on the bastards from Boeing responsible for C-17 creature comforts.  
  
"Well, enough bitching about the things we can't change. Lieutenant your orders as well as your reputation proceed you. In his unique and highly efficient manner Gunny Waldorf has assembled the interviews we are aware of. They are separated in quarters awaiting your call, and the Gunny has been detailed to assist you in EVERY way possible. Isn't that so, Gunny?"  
  
"Under the major's sterling leadership how could I do anything else but comply wholeheartedly with a song in my heart and angel's wings at my heels?" The Gunny's outrageous rhetorical question got laughter from both officers. "In any case sir, I rounded up the people who filed after action reports that were still in country. Do you require any assistance in locating Commander Rabb and Col. MacKenzie? I believe they are back in Washington, but I can confirm that if necessary."  
  
"Gunny, that won't be necessary," Bud responded, "I've already interviewed both officers. Now, gentlemen, since my higher headquarters is on my back about getting these interviews out of the way, where can I set up and get started?"  
  
"Mr. Roberts, I believe the gunny has a secure interview room set up for you over with the spooks and snake eaters at the terminal," Maj. Moore offered. "I agreed with the gunny's assessment that having to walk through the forces of darkness over there should make your folks more talkative...just in case they're having any second thoughts. Have a wonderful time in beautiful Iraq. If you need anything, anything at all let the gunny know, and please see me before you leave. Dismissed."  
  
A quick move to attention, a nod, an about face and Bud was heading out the door.  
  
0915 Hrs, JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA  
  
A third cup of "Navy Special" coffee was finally starting to drive the fog of fatigue away, but Mac was a long way from hitting on all cylinders this morning. Last night's pitched battle with the demons in her dreams had at best been fought to a draw at a very high cost to her badly depleted emotional reserves. "God," she thought, "if I don't get some rest I'm going to keel over either right here or in an even more embarrassing spot. Something's got to give before long."  
  
The interruption knocking at the office door wasn't a welcome one.  
  
Concern tinged Harm's voice. "Mac, you okay in there? I've been standing here for a couple of minutes and you were really zoned out."  
  
Automatically she groused that everything was okay, but that story didn't fly very far. "Mac, you're not okay. It's not okay, and you aren't getting any better." Her sharp headshake didn't slow him down. "Here's the deal: An old buddy of mine specializes in treatment of PTSS (post traumatic stress syndrome). He's a good guy, and he's not an 'on the record' Navy consult. We're going to go see him this afternoon, have a cup of coffee, and shoot the breeze...off the record of course."  
  
Mac cut him off sharply right there. "Like hell! I've got a ton of stuff on the docket this afternoon that won't keep. Besides that, where do you get off setting this deal up? Who died and made you king for the day?"  
  
A slow smile rolled across Harm's face. "Your stuff will keep. If you don't believe that ask Coates? At the admiral's order she's busy rebuilding your week. And if we don't do something unofficially our leader is going to order you to Bethesda for a full evaluation. I'll bet you won't be a happy camper if the troops up on Wisconsin Ave., get a chance to poke and prod around in your head...all on the record."  
  
As Harm's version of the future unfolded Mac's lips slowly vanished into a grimace. "Don't you understand that I just need a little space to get my arms around this? You're a friend, can't you at least buy a little time from the admiral?"  
  
"Mac, there's no more room to bargain with the admiral. I've already backed him off a couple of times, and I don't think there's any more 'give' in his opinion. One way or the other something has got to change, and I'll bet your pension it won't be him." Harm's shrug spoke volumes.  
  
1445 Hrs, Gerson, Brown & Associates, Reston, VA  
  
Dr. Terry Gerson's military bearing was obvious and a quick look around the open, sun-filled office was a thumbnail sketch of an interesting career. A Silver Star citation topped a formidable collection of awards and devices framed behind the blonde desk, and the host of photos and mementos lining the office offered subtle testimony to a substantial, and probably colorful, association with the military arts.  
  
A huge smile and hearty handshake that turned into a bear hug greeted Harm as the two officers walked into the office. "Jesus, Harm, how long has it been? You're looking great, so I'll dispense with the automatic 'how are you' and go straight to how are Frank and your mom?"  
  
"They're great TG, just great. Mom sends her best, and Frank wanted me to remind you that you owe him a rematch at LaCosta so he can have a chance to get some of his money back," Harm responded them nodded in Mac's direction. "I want you to meet a dear friend, Col. Sarah MacKenzie, long- time partner and sometimes best friend."  
  
A delicate hand was extended to shake hands, but there was a chill note in the voice. "Good afternoon doctor. My friends call me Mac, but for the moment you can call me Col. MacKenzie. Time will tell on any status change."  
  
"It's very nice to meet you colonel, and I will remain hopeful that we can move to Mac at some point. Just for the record, in the event Harm has shared any particularly outlandish stories about incidents that have been lost in history I categorically deny any involvement in the situation in question and will attempt to deflect any blame on him...whatever it may have been.  
  
"And, since you are being formal here please let me make a couple of things very clear at the outset: First and foremost everything here is off the record; second – there will be no paper trail of any conversations we may have...off the record is off the record in my book, and finally, just in case the idea that 'you can't possibly understand where I'm coming from' jumps into your mind, that's pure, unadulterated bullshit.  
  
"Post traumatic stress syndrome isn't cured, it is managed. There's no magic pill or potent that will make the nightmares, flashbacks, and all of that shit disappear. PTSS is 'handled' by building and using a unique set of tools that only you can master. What works for me may not work for Harm, and what may serve Harm and I well probably won't work for you.  
  
"Now, Harm, there's a great coffee spot down on Lake Anne. Go! Enjoy!"  
  
1550 Hrs Local, Interview Room Quebec, Spook Country, Baghdad International Airport, Iraq  
  
Wrapping up his final interview Bud looked closely at the young Marine across the table. "Sgt. Wheeler, in the weeks since the incident we've been talking about have you had any second thoughts about how it was handled?"  
  
Tommy Wheeler didn't even pause before answering. "Sir, I've thought about the drive up, how we initially handled the ambush, and what happened to Steve. I've thought about it a lot. Lieutenant, if we made a mistake it was in trying to sit tight and wait for someone else to come along and run the damn ragheads back down the waddi. Commander Rabb was right when he wanted to take the hut right away, and Col. MacKenzie's decision to wait probably cost us a KIA. But, who am I to say?"  
  
Bud made a couple of notes to fill a few seconds looking busy while he processed the sergeant's comments. "Sergeant, you were in command of the LAV. It was your trip. The commander and the colonel were just passengers on the bus, at least until the ambush was sprung and all of you were out on the ground." Grabbing onto this unfolding line of thought Bud jumped on the train not at all certain where it would lead.  
  
"Sergeant, did Col. MacKenzie assume tactical command once the situation changed?"  
  
"I don't know; I guess."  
  
"What do you mean you 'don't know'? Sergeant, you were there. Did the colonel assume active command of the operation once things went to hell in a hand basket?" When Sgt. Wheeler didn't immediately answer Bud pushed a little harder raising his voice. "Well, sergeant, what's it going to be? Yes or no are acceptable answers. No additional explanation is needed. Now answer me!"  
  
"Sir, yes sir, the colonel assumed command after the vehicle was evacuated. She sent the commander and I to grab the SMAW out of the vehicle, then she said we'd sit tight until some road movement came along to relieve us. Hell, I mean, sir that was a pretty busy road. Someone should have been along in just a few minutes, but we sat there for nearly three hours before the shit hit the fan."  
  
Bud very consciously remained silent for nearly 30 seconds before leaning forward across the table and speaking in a very soft voice.  
  
"Sergeant, do you believe that the failure to act promptly to regain the initiative was a command mistake or was it just a bad choice in the middle of a day already heading south?"  
  
Tommy Wheeler never blinked and never looked away when he answered.  
  
"Lieutenant, it wasn't a bad choice...the outcome was just bad for everybody"  
  
Bud closed his folder and the thump seemed to fill the small, hot interview room.  
  
"Thank you sergeant. That will be all. You're dismissed."  
  
After coming to attention and prior to making an about face and leaving the room the young NCO paused. "Is there something else sergeant?"  
  
"Yes, sir there is. It was an honor to serve with the colonel. That sorry assed day in the middle of nowhere in Asshole Iraq I learned what being a Marine was really about. I'm sorry the death of a fellow Marine was the price." Sgt. Wheeler snapped to a parade ground position of attention, took one step back, pivoted to his right and marched out of the room leaving Bud alone in the now silent room.  
  
After a few moments Gunny Waldorf entered. "Sir, will there be anything else?"  
  
"No, gunny I just need to process what I've been told right now, but if you can run down the Marines who found our little group I would like to talk with them briefly tomorrow. For now, I need to transcribe my notes and get back with my boss via STU (secure telephone unit) if you can arrange that."  
  
1600 Hrs Local, Gerson, Brown & Associates, Reston, VA  
  
Terry Gerson, MD, PhD and LTC Sara MacKenzie, USMC spent the first 30 minutes of their time together circling like a pair of fighters trying to get a feel for a new, dangerous opponent. Denial and rejection were old friends in this conversation, and finally Mac thought she had enough. "Doctor, we're just dancing around here. I don't need your help. Period. All I need is a little more time to put some of this crap behind me, so let's just call it a day."  
  
Silence, complete silence filled the room for 90 seconds or so.  
  
"Colonel, we can call it a day, but that's not going to help you. You're a hard case aren't you? I'll bet you've been a hard case for, what 20 or so years? You have obviously put a tough childhood behind you. I'll bet you've even buried an addiction or two somewhere along the trail.  
  
"Think about this: How many relationships, good and bad, have you also buried as you went along? How many times has that hard shell of yours caused good things to bounce away?  
  
1655 Hrs Local, Camp Sather, Baghdad International Airport, Iraq  
  
Briefing the admiral had been quick and surprisingly painless since there really wasn't anything new or unexpected to pass along to the boss. The entire investigation seemed to be pointless, as far as Bud could see, unless there was something else going behind the scenes. 'This was entirely routine. There's nothing remarkable here, so I don't know what to think.'  
  
Gunny Waldorf interrupted any additional reflections. "Sir, will there be anything else today? The major wanted me to be sure you were finished before securing for the day."  
  
"No, gunny that will be all" Before the gunny could take his leave, Bud had an additional thought. "On second thought, do you think Maj. Moore could spare a few minutes this evening?"  
  
"I'm sure he could fit you in, although his calendar has been extremely crowded since arriving in beautiful Baghdad. It's the height of the social season you know," he laughed as he held the door open for Bud. "I doubt he's left the office, so if you don't mind the walk we'll head back that way."  
  
1710 Hrs Local, Camp Sather, Baghdad International Airport Iraq  
  
"Lieutenant, at ease. In fact have a seat." As Bud sat down the major gestured for the gunny to leave them. "Gunny, give us about 10 minutes then see if you can find some of the sergeant major's special desert fever medication for the three of us. Also, secure the hatch on the way out."  
  
After the door closed a somewhat heavy silence fell over the office before the major cleared his throat. "Okay, lieutenant, it's your meeting. What's on your mind?"  
  
Bud was very uncomfortable with the line of thought that had been developing over the last few hours, but he was not at all sure how to broach the subject with the officer across the desk from him. Sliding his chair back from the desk Maj. Moore stepped into the conversational void.  
  
"Lieutenant some interesting scuttlebutt has made the rounds. If the voices in the wind are to be believed, some chair-warming son of a bitch has looked deeply into the tealeaves and found evidence of some war crimes bullshit in your incident. Is that what you are so obviously uncomfortable about son?"  
  
The major's dark eyes seemed to slice right through Bud like a laser.  
  
"If you're are here to look for evidence to incriminate a fellow Marine you are pissing into the wind. From my seat, which by the way is much closer to the action that any seat at CENTCOM (Central Command) or on the editorial board at The New York Times, everyone involved did exactly what they should have done.  
  
"Sgt. Wheeler, Col. MacKenzie, the Navy guy, and the rest of the grunts were just dumped into a bad deal and they coped. Yes, we lost one man KIA, but so what? That young man's death was a tragedy to his family and probably his community, but it was one of those things. Period. Why's that so damned hard to see?  
  
"If you are responsible for finding someone to blame where are you going to go? Did Wheeler fuck up by leading his track into an ambush? If that's the case you better start building a new wing at Ft. Leavenworth.  
  
"Did the colonel err grievously by wanting to sit tight to wait for a road movement to relive them? That road must have 300 or more vehicle movements per day. Who would have guessed that they'd sit and bake for three or so hours?  
  
"Did both the colonel and that kid from Iowa mess up by trying to get a little shade from the ass end of the LAV just before the RPG lit the damn thing up?  
  
"Was the whole deal a result of incompetent leadership? How about cowardice, or dereliction of command duty? There's probably room for a lot of Monday morning quarterbacking here, but where's the war crime?  
  
"Just where do you want to go with this Mr. Roberts?"  
  
Any discussion of war crimes was a bolt out of the blue to Bud. He couldn't think of anything, anything at all that even approached that level of irresponsibility. "Major, I don't know about any allegations of that kind of behavior, and, unless someone's hiding something, I'm a little puzzled about how that story could have even gotten started."  
  
Any lengthy response was cut short by Gunny Waldorf's return from his foraging mission. Following a knock at the door the gunny stepped into the office with a canteen and three cups. "The Sergeant Major recently had the opportunity to consort with some of our British brothers down south and a new stock of desert fever medication is secured in the CDO's safe. Since Mr. Roberts is with us may I assume that the sun is sufficiently over the yardarm for a libation?"  
  
Chuckles all around and a nod from the major effectively ended the business portion of the day. 


End file.
